The Hottest Accent in the Glade
by SiriuslyLoopyDora
Summary: Newt had never really questioned where he came from. To him, what mattered was where he was now: in the Glade, with the other boys. He didn't think that his accent set him apart. But little did he know that it was his voice that kept everyone going, his accent that gave others hope... even when he had given up hope himself. (Beta: SilverySparks)
_**Okay this was actually meant for Saint George's day but because of illness, exams and my computer deleting most of this story ending up with me having to rewrite it that means it has come up late.**_

 _ **Must warn you that this story hasn't been beta'd yet due to all the reasons above (Silvery Sparks will be betaing when they are ready), I have literally only just finished it now and I just wanted to get it done already. I've had exams this week so now that I am done for the week I decided to get this done.**_

 _ **14/06/2016 - NOW BETA'D BY THE AMAZING SILVERY SPARKS! :D**_

 _ **Oh yeah and from the summary it's more what Newt is saying what gives others hope but his accent is different (I know in the films they have put Newt with a London accent but for some reason I imagined him more Geordie. I'm from England myself so if you see any English colloquialisms for American characters please raise it in a review. Sometimes I do it without even realising)**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I am not James Dashner**_

* * *

Crank – boom – crank – boom. The background noise washed through the air, instilling fear and terror into the ten boys who were currently huddled together in the dark abyss of the lift. Their only form of light was that of a small bulb dangling pathetically from the lift's ceiling.

The lift juddered slightly and all of a sudden came to a halt leaving them suspended in the darkness. They all had their own ways in dealing with this newfound fear; all of them were scared even if not all of them were showing it.

In the far right hand corner, a dark skinned slightly tubby teen had soundless tears trailing down his face. In the other corner, what seemed to be the oldest of the bunch of boys kept looking up nervously at the roof and flexing his left hand. Then you had the people like the Asian boy sat in the middle on an old wooden box, whose fear looked the exact same as someone who was royally pissed off.

"Any of you know why we're here?" the Asian boy broke the silence; despite the angry look on his face his voice was wary.

The others all shook their heads, "No, I-I can't remember anything before this," one teen with a shock of red hair fretted closing his eyes tightly as though hoping this was all a bad dream.

"Nothing?" Another dark skinned boy asked this one older and skinnier than the other. He too looked angry but his looked as though it could have just been his natural face layout.

The ginger boy shrugged and thought hard.

"My name is Minho," the Asian boy in the middle looked up at the others, hoping it wasn't only him who remembered his name.

"I think mine is Stephen," the ginger boy smiled for the first time that trip.

"Alby," the tall dark skinned boy introduced himself with a huff.

The boy in the right hand corner sniffled and told them, "Siggy."

This was closely followed by the oldest boy with the flexing hand saying "Nick."

"Jeff."

"Clint."

"Winston."

"Zart."

All the boys turned to the last remaining figure in the room. There was no doubt this boy was the youngest but not by too much, he looked as though he had only just hit puberty – still small (currently the smallest in the room) but on the edge of a growth spurt. He had a mop of dirty blonde hair which reached just below his ears and crystal blue eyes which were looking anxiously at the others.

He had to take his hand away from his mouth, he had been nibbling on his nails (his fear filled trait), and answered "Newt, my name is Newt."

One of the boys whistled, Winston Newt recalled. "That's one hell of an accent you got there. You sound so different from us."

The blond boy just shrugged, "I must be from a different place than you."

"I wanna go to this place," Minho joked and for the first time everyone gave a light hearted laugh.

"I'm glad you find my accent so enticing," Newt rolled his eyes at the other boys.

The lift juddered again and started moving, this time at a slower pace.

"Do any of you know how old you are?" Clint asked, moving closer to Jeff who was right by his side as he warily looked at the dark surroundings.

For this everyone shook their heads, "No but you look around fifteen," Siggy answered.

"I think we can mainly say that Nick is the oldest, dude you look around eighteen and Newt here is the baby of the group… You must be only thirteen, just" Alby raised a brow at Newt who shrugged.

"No idea, but just to let you know I can stand up for myself," Newt joked causing the others to laugh despite the situation.

"We never thought otherwise." Minho's wink was barely seen in the dim lighting. "However," he continued with a more serious edge in his tone, "I hope you're not wrong. When we get up there I highly doubt it's a place filled with butterflies and unicorns."

All the boys shuddered once again. "We need to stick together," Alby grunted, glaring at the others. It wasn't a nasty glare, just a warning one.

"We need order," Newt stated with a raise of his brow. "We're on our own from here, whatever the case is when we're up there teamwork will be pointless without order."

"Accent has a point," Nick nodded thoughtfully.

"First point of Order, don't call me Accent, my name is Newt," the blonde smiled politely.

"Whatever, Accent."

Newt's eyebrows furrowed, they had only just met and he could already tell he wasn't going to get on well with the older boy.

The lift came to a sudden halt, throwing many of the boys off balance and sprawled onto the floor. A moment of nothing, then two large doors above the boys churned open, sending blinding light straight towards their bodies.

Minho was the first to get up, holding his hand out for Newt who gratefully took it and pulled himself up.

"Who wants to go up first?" Clint asked, wringing his hands together nervously.

No one spoke for a second until Newt sighed. "I will."

Minho nodded "I'll join you."

Alby stepped forward too.

"Okay you three will check what is up there and report back to us," Nick grunted.

The three nodded. Everyone helped Minho and Alby get up first and then gave a leg up to Newt who took Alby and Minho's hands at the top so they could pull him up the rest of the way.

To say Newt was shocked by what he saw was a bit of an understatement. The place wasn't filled with beasts and creatures… It was just plain. Trees and grass was all that was here other than the four skyscraper high walls which surrounded them, preventing the boys from escaping.

"What the hell?" Alby murmured confused.

"We've been sent to a field," Minho deadpanned.

"WHAT'S GOING ON UP THERE?" Nick's voice could be heard from the lift.

The three boys on ground level looked at each other wondering what to tell them. "Nothing, absolutely nothing," Alby finally answered to the group.

"Well help us then."

It took about ten minutes at maximum to get the rest of the seven boys up, all of them just as confused at the first three when their eyes met the field which the evening sun slowly started to plunge it into darkness.

"It's getting late from the looks of it." Nick looked up at the sky. "We will have two people on watch at all points in the night to make sure nothing bad happens. Other than that everyone find a patch of grass to sleep on."

The boys nodded.

"Accent and I will take the first shift," Nick ordered, Newt just rolled his eyes at the name.

* * *

Newt and Nick stayed in an awkward silence for most of their shift, it was fine at the start when they were occupied with making a fire but now they were both just sitting motionlessly on the floor. The only sound which hit their ears was Siggy's soft snores.

"How do you think we're going to get out of here?" Nick questioned suddenly, his voice casual.

Newt raised his head, startled. "I-I don't know but there must be a way out."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "You seem very optimistic."

"I have no reason to give up hope yet," Newt shrugged.

A wry chuckle escaped the older boy. "You're right there, Accent. We need a bit of hope in situations like these. We will try getting in that box thing tomorrow and see if it will bring us back, and if that fails we can try climbing up the ivy on the wall and create a rope for when the ivy finishes and find a way to get it up to the top and stick."

Newt bit his lip and looked at the four walls. "Something tells me it's going to be a bit harder than that."

"How so?"

"If you look at the four walls, they all have a vertical crack directly in the middle of all of them. Bit of a coincidence if they occurred naturally. My guess is that they're doors." Newt was frowning and Nick's mouth was opening in realisation that it seemed true. "Maybe it's not anything in here we need to be afraid of, maybe it's a good thing but I don't think the creators would let us out of here that easily" Newt continued in a whisper, "The real monsters could be out there."

As if on cue a load groan emerged from outside the walls, waking all the boys from their slumber.

"What the hell was that?" Stephen asked terrified.

"Something to avoid," Newt answered instantly, looking towards the west wall where the sound seemed to appear from. "The walls are protecting us for now, but something tells me the people who put us here aren't going to keep those walls shut forever."

"Accent is correct; tomorrow we need to plan everything so we can survive. If he is right and if the cracks in the walls are doors then no one is to set foot outside until we know more about whatever made that noise…"

* * *

Just as Newt feared, the next morning at about six thirty (judging from the sun) the boys were all awoken by the ear crippling sound of four walls forcing their way open. The rest of the previous night had been spent making weapons from wood, their pitch forks looked useless and their spears would snap but that was all they currently had to work with.

"Stay alert, you don't know if one of those things will come in here," Nick announced tiredly. The black bags under his eyes now looked very prominent.

That was what they did, not one member of the group left to be on their own and if they needed the loo they didn't care if the others could see. Truth be told, some were more relaxed than others. Minho for example was sat down with his legs out crossed in front of him and was leaning back on his hands, eyes closed and face tilted towards the sun thoroughly relaxed. Stephen on the other hand looked as though he was about to collapse from fear at any moment.

With a frown Newt went over to sit next to the ginger. "You okay?"

Stephen shook his head, his face starting to turn a pale green.

"There is nothing wrong with being scared you know," Newt smiled kindly resting a hand on the older boy's shoulder.

"Being scared is a weakness," Stephen contradicted, a self-loathing frown emerging on his forehead.

"No it's not, it's an advantage." Newt smiled.

To that Stephen rolled his eyes. "Care to enlighten me on that idea, Accent?"

Newt frowned distastefully at the nickname which he had been given but explained anyway. "Fear makes you wary; wariness can stop you going into situations which could get you killed."

"Going into situations which could get you killed is bravery," Nick said from a few feet away, by now the rest of the boys had joined in listening.

"Sometimes it is bravery, and sometimes it's stupidity," Newt replied calmly.

Minho smiled, he could see the oldest boy of the group was starting to get annoyed by the way he started to flex his hand. He hadn't warmed to Nick yet the way he had to Newt.

"Your point is stupid."

Newt rolled his eyes, "No my point is logical. If you think about it this way you can't be brave without fear. Overcoming fear is what makes you brave, but during acts of bravery you don't go charging in without a plan," Newt explained and Nick's face started to turn red to Minho's amusement. "However, going into a situation without a plan, that is stupid; you're helping no one by doing that. Fear makes you think more often than not."

Stephen had stopped looking so ill throughout the British boy's speech, Newt was right. A little fear could do no harm, if anything it motivated him more to do something to get out of this place.

"Well said," Zart grinned from his place near the woods.

* * *

They had been in the Glade (what Nick decided to call it) now for three days when the hunger fully started to kick in. The first two days it was just a dull ache which was easy to ignore due to the fear that they had. But now realisation had kicked in that they were safe by day so long as they stayed in the glade and therefore their minds turned to the more pressing matters which were their stomachs.

"I'm starving," Winston moaned clutching his stomach.

"We all are," Alby snapped back.

Newt sighed standing up. "It's no good just sitting here doing nothing and complaining about it. Let's go out looking for food."

The only person who budged to get up with him was Siggy.

Newt rolled his eyes. "If you're not going to help us look for food then you might as well go back to the box and see if there is anything in there which could help us. It was full of crates and we haven't gone back to see what was actually in all of them."

With that he and the dark skinned boy set off towards the woods (in the distance Newt could vaguely hear Minho saying "I swear if it's more frickin clothes…").

"They need to start being bloody practical with the time we have in here," Newt muttered underneath his breath.

"They're just in a bad mood," Siggy defended them with a small chuckle.

"Aren't we all?"

Siggy didn't reply. He didn't need to because Newt already knew the answer.

They searched for a good half an hour before stumbling on something which looked edible.

"Hey Newt, get over here," Siggy shouted excitedly.

Newt got there with lightning speed coming to a halt right in front of the other boy. He kneeled down with his brow furrowing in confusion before the plant which got Siggy so excited. "What is it?"

Siggy rolled his eyes and started digging towards the plants roots, only when he got a bit further did Newt smile.

"A potato plant, Siggy you're a genius. None of us over there would have been able to distinguish that."

Siggy blushed and gave a small shrug. "Thought it was just common knowledge."

Newt shook his head with a smile. "Nope, if it wasn't for you we would still be complaining tomorrow about how hungry we are."

Siggy chuckled "Ah well, I've not cooked it yet so don't praise me."

They carried as many as they could back to camp, making sure not to break any of the plant roots so that they would be able to grow some more. Once they had made it the two were met by the sight of Minho and Clint playing sword fighting with two frying pans.

"Good to know you lot are having fun," Newt giggled.

"We found food," Siggy publicised happily.

The rest of the boys cheered. Siggy took charge of making the food that night, everything came to him naturally. That night the boys had fries (though Newt argued that they were actually called chips but it was nine against one) for dinner. They were pretty dry because they didn't have seasoning but considering that they hadn't eaten in three days it felt like the most amazing food in the world.

"Good job Frypan," Newt winked at the boy who blushed at his new nickname then smiled.

* * *

The weeks went by and the boys slowly started to get into a routine and get jobs around the area. Nick was the leader with Alby as second in command, Clint and Jeff had been assigned to be what they had dubbed Medjacks in case someone got ill, Frypan had taken the part of the cook, once livestock started to appear in the glade from the box Winston became a Slicer, Stephen was a Builder and started making a place for them to stay, Minho and Newt were training to be Runners (they had realised that the only way they could get out of there was by stepping out of the glade) and lastly Zart was the honourable Track Hoe. However, when needed they all help each other out.

The garden wasn't established yet but Zart knew how he wanted it, they had been sent seeds last week for various vegetables and fruit to grow. There was only one problem though.

"You have your thinking face on again." A voice behind Zart made him jump. Turning around he saw Newt smiling at him, the younger boy was slightly sweaty and he could tell that Newt had just finished another intense training lesson.

"Do I?" Zart replied looking back at the area which would become the garden.

"Yeah, you frown right there." Newt poked between his acne covered brows. "What's the matter?"

"The garden is the problem, we have all these seeds ready to plant but I know they are going to die," Zart groaned sitting down on the grass.

Newt bit his lip in confusion and sat down next to the Track-Hoe. "How can you tell?"

Zart pointed at the ground. "The soil is filled with clover. That means that the soil isn't rich in nutrients because clover is a nitrifying plant."

Newt's eyebrows rose as he looked over the ground. "What can we do about it?"

Zart groaned with frustration, "That's what I don't know, I have an idea but I don't know whether that would make it worse."

Newt put a hand on Zart's shoulder. "Well remember that we trust you." Zart looked sideways at Newt. "Everything is worth a try and if it goes wrong the people who made this place will probably send us some more seeds so that we can try again."

Zart's lips turned upwards.

"And by the way your idea is most likely to work, you seem to be the only one who knows anything about the right time for planting and everything," Newt tittered.

The acne covered boy nodded, "Well I was thinking we could upturn the earth. We got some rakes last time the box came up, if we upturn the soil but not get rid of the clover maybe this will help make the land a bit less hostile."

The blond nodded and got Minho. That day was spent the tree running up and down the garden raking the soil and placing seeds down.

A few weeks later a lot had happened. A new boy had arrived in the glade and much to Zart's delight shoots were starting grow from the soil.

"Told you, you would be right," Newt beamed.

* * *

The early morning sun had only just begun to kiss the glade, but because most of the boys were still sleeping they failed to see it. Most of the boys - not all. Minho and Newt were at the edge of the wall, patiently waiting for the doors to open. This would be the first time any of them had set out of the Glade, it was their job to try and find a way out.

"You scared?" Minho asked suddenly looking down at the blond.

Newt had definitely grown in the couple of months that they had been here, even to the extent that he had overgrown some of the older boys here but he was still nowhere near the height of Minho.

To that Newt just looked up and gave a small smile. "Yeah, but as I've said in the past it is never a bad thing to be scared. You?"

"Bricking it," Minho answered honestly.

"Well if you run into trouble, don't forget I'm in there with you. I don't know how big it is but I'm sure I will be able to hear you with your big bloody gob," Newt joked punching Minho's buff shoulder lightly.

"Yeah same goes to you, I will hear that cute accent of yours anywhere," Minho playfully pinched Newt's cheek causing them both to burst into a fit of laughter. Once it had died down, Minho sighed, "Do you actually think there is a way out of here?"

"I don't know," Newt's eyes went downcast. "But we have to try, because we can't give up on hope yet."

"I know."

"Promise me that you will never give up trying to find us a way out," Newt's sky blue eyes locked with Minho's chocolate ones.

Taken aback by Newt's sudden question all Minho could do was nod with a whisper of "I promise."

Newt grinned widely. "Good, because if anyone can it's you. You're the fastest runner in the glade."

Minho was about to reply but was cut off when they loud churning of the doors erupted. The two remained silent until the doors were fully open and for a few moments after.

"You ready?" Minho asked looking towards where they were going to start running.

"Nope but let's get this over with," Newt replied.

With that they both ran off. Outside the Glade lay a maze, a maze which they had to solve in order to get out. That didn't prove easy though as not so long after the first run they discovered that the noises which were coming from outside the Glade were actually Grievers and that the maze liked to change its structure throughout the night.

Despite this, Minho never let go of his promise. Every day he went out running in the glade with Newt and the other recruited runners just to try and find a way out of this prison. He wouldn't stop running until he had fulfilled his promise to Newt.

* * *

They had been in the Glade for nearly nine months before anything really bad happened. Winston was just doing his normal duty of being a slicer, getting the meat ready before they had dinner that night. However, when going in for the kill the pig that he had in his arms moved causing the knife to slip right past and slice down the length of this right wrist.

Winston didn't really register the pain at first, just felt something wasn't right. That was until he felt the oozing of blood making its way out of his wrist and down his hand until it dripped rapidly off his fingers.

"OH SHIT" Winston screamed tears trailing down his face as the pain finally overcame him.

A circle had formed around him within seconds, tiny gasps and groans being emitted every so once in a while once they saw what had happened to the slicer.

"HEY, BACK OFF" came a voice outside the crowd, instantly followed by a bunch of shoves and pushes – Alby. Once the dark skinned boy finally managed to get his way to the front he instantly paled. "Holy shuck" he whispered, and then to a bunch of younger boys "Get him to Clint and Jeff."

The young boys nodded and did as they were ordered.

In the infirmary the two med jacks were already working.

"What do you think's up with him?" Minho asked looking down at the pale, wheezing boy in his arms. He and Newt had met up for lunch in the maze and just suddenly the blonde boy started to cough uncontrollably and fight for his breath. Minho had initially thought of it as a joke but when Newt didn't stop the Asian boy had instantly picked him up and raced towards Jeff and Clint.

Currently, Newt was in a state of unconsciousness. He had been dipping in and out for the past hour.

"His fever is getting worse," Jeff said to Clint not answering Minho.

Clint nodded to himself.

Just when Minho thought no one was going to answer him, Clint said, "Judging by how swollen his lips and throat are and how he has deteriorated so quickly I think he is having an allergic reaction of some sort."

"Did he eat anything he doesn't normally?" Jeff raised a brow at Minho who shrugged.

"We got some nuts from the creators yesterday, Frypan put some in both of our lunch boxes," Minho suggested whilst sitting Newt up a bit more against his chest trying to relieve the pressure on the boy's chest.

"The supplies will be up in half an hour, we've sent a request for anti-histam-" Clint was cut short by the door bursting open and a semi-conscious blood soaked Winston being carried in.

"Shucking hell, what happened?" Clint screamed as he moved as fast as lightning to his new patient as Jeff went to the first aid. "Bandages aren't going to fix this one, get the needle and thread" Clint ordered with a pale face.

Jeff nodded rapidly and did as he was told.

Ripping off some of the fabric from his shirt, Clint proceeded to tie it just under Winston's elbow successfully decreasing the blood flow. Getting a wet pad he started cleaning the wound. "Hurry Jeff, we only have about five minutes before I have to take the fabric away."

Winston looked paler than ever, the only thing giving him colour on his face was the vivid red acne which spread across his cheeks.

"What's" wheeze "happening?" Newt's voice spoke out, his eyes were almost swollen shut but he still managed to make out a few images.

"Don't worry Newt, there has just been an accident," Minho weakly reassured.

Jeff came back with the needle and thread and handed it to Clint who took the metal with shaking fingers. Putting the needle to the skin, the Medjack hesitated. "I-I don't think I can do this."

"Don't" wheeze "doubt" wheeze "yourself," Newt spoke softly.

Jeff and Clint both looked at the blond speaking.

"There is a" wheeze "reason" wheeze "you're the" wheeze "Medjacks" there was a moment where Newt had to try and regain his breath. "We trust you" wheeze "Winston knows" wheeze "he's in the best" wheeze "of hands."

Newt finished at that point, exhausted.

"He's right," Clint nodded and proceeded to do the task at hand. He stitched Winston's wrist until there was no more blood coming out, neatly and accurately, then removed the fabric from Winston's arm. "You're going to be alright."

Winston nodded with a smile. "I knew I would be," he tilted his head towards Newt.

Clint's lips rose as he turned towards the British boy. "I don't think you actually realise how much you do for the people here."

Newt's swollen lips touched together, "I tell the truth" wheeze "it's all I can do."

"The supplies have arrived," Jeff said, rushing out to go and retrieve the medical supplies.

"You're amazing," Clint told him, and even though Newt couldn't see Winston and Minho both nodded in agreement.

Newt shrugged, once again falling into unconsciousness. He woke a few hours later feeling better than he had done in a while, but the past few hours were a blur of pain. Therefore, all the talk about how amazing he was lost from his memory, waiting for someone to remind him.

* * *

When is it the right time to give up? When you lose hope? When you're fed up of what your life has to offer? When you can't bear to wake up another day knowing it is going to be just as pathetic as the last? Is that the right time?

It was those thoughts which made Newt climb – the climb of giving up.

Angry tears trailed down Newt's face as his hand reached up for another branch, propelling him further away from the floor. He climbed until he could climb no more, twisting himself around so that he faced the opposite wall he latched onto the ivy behind him. When he looked down, he saw his fate. 'No one needs me anyway,' the blond thought, more tears gushing from his eyes.

He didn't want to be here anymore – he'd had enough.

He'd lost hope.

He was fed up.

He couldn't go on another pathetic day.

He'd given up…

He jumped.

In the Glade Minho was in the mapping room with the other runners, biting down hard on the pencil he was currently using he couldn't help but let his mind wonder. Where was Newt?

"Hey, how long until the walls close?" Minho questioned looking at the runners.

"About five minutes," Max replied looking at his watch which had been sent by the creators.

Minho bit his lip anxiously. "Where's Newt?"

The rest of the runners looked up concernedly.

"The last I saw him was when we had lunch in the maze," Taylor looked between the other boys.

A loud knock blasted against the door before a blood soaked Nick came into the room.

Minho was on his feet in a second.

Nick had to catch his breath for a second before he could get any words out, "Minho, go to the infirmary – it's Acc… Newt."

Minho didn't have to be told twice, he was out the doors within milliseconds and running straight towards the infirmary.

As soon as he opened the doors, he wished he hadn't. Laid on the bed, blood pooling around him saturating the bed sheets crimson and a right leg bent at the most awkward angle possible was Newt.

"What happened?" Minho whispered horrified.

"I- I don't really know," Alby responded stepping back away from Newt so as not to be in the way of the two med jacks. "I heard a scream from within the maze, found Newt blood soaked and Nick and I dragged him back here."

"Grievers?"

Alby looked towards Jeff who shook his head. "He's not been stung."

There was a moment of silence as realisation kicked in like a punch in the face.

"He jumped," Clint croaked whilst cleaning his suicide patient's head wound.

Minho felt every ounce of joy and happiness he had ever had flood out of his body. Newt, his best friend, had tried to commit suicide.

"Will he be okay?" Nick asked suddenly making an appearance at the door.

Clint shrugged, "He'll survive, but he can say goodbye to running. His leg is destroyed."

Despite the last part of the information, the three sighed in relief. Newt would survive.

"It's about time we return the favour, he's given us all hope during this crisis. So much in fact that we were blind to see that he'd given up on it." Minho looked between the four occupants.

Nick chuckled and made his way to the unconscious boy, taking one of his bruised hands. "You chose the wrong group to give up on, Accent. We're not going to let you go that easily."

* * *

Two months after 'The Accident' Newt was finally given the possibility to walk without crutches because he hated them so much. Instead the creators had sent up that day a metal brace for his leg and a cast boot which came up to his knee. The Medjacks had put it on him this morning and now the original ten were all gathered together to help him begin to walk.

"Did you guys actually all need to be here?" Newt blushed from his seat.

"Definitely," Zart snorted going round to the side of Newt and helping him up.

"Remember Newt, this is your first day back walking – baby steps," Clint advised.

Newt rolled his eyes and groaned when Minho came out in front of him and took his hands.

"I'm not a child, Minho."

"I know you're not but as the Medjack said: baby steps."

Newt sighed, putting a tiny bit of weight onto the previously destroyed leg. One step forward and Newt was glad that Minho was there as he instantly fell over into the boys muscular arms.

The rest of the gladers flinched forwards during the fall but once they saw he'd been caught they moved back.

"Don't feel like you have to do this, Accent." Nick leaned back.

"Oh I'm going to do it, just so I can hit you for still calling me bloody Accent," Newt joked causing a few sniggers.

"Not my fault you have a sexy accent which has stuck."

"Don't call my accent sexy."

Newt took a few more steps which were painful to a degree considering his leg was still technically broken but he finally got the hang of it.

The group cheered once he had finally mastered the skill of the boot and braces and Newt smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. After he had woken up he had been confronted by the nine about his motives and was told to snap out of it. Easier said than done but this was the first positive thing which has happened since it had begun.

This happiness was halted however when Nick said, "I'm going to climb down to where the box goes."

All muttering had ceased as they looked at their leader in shock.

"What?" Alby questioned disbelieved.

"It may be our way out of here."

"We don't know what is down there," Winston argued.

"You could die," Stephen continued.

Nick flexed his hand, "We need to try."

"There is a difference between bravery and stupidity, remember?" Newt frowned at the oldest boy, now man.

"I remember," he replied gently.

"You can't do this," Minho grunted.

"Yes I can… and if anything happens to me all my power goes to my second in command." Nick looked directly at a shocked Alby.

"Don't do this Nick," Alby growled.

"It's been decided, none of you will stop me. Now go and do your normal duties."

The group eventually scattered, leaving only Newt and Alby behind.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," Newt frowned.

"Neither do I – I don't think I'm ready to be leader," Alby admitted, his eyebrows furrowing.

Newt placed a reassuring hand on his friends shoulder. "When the time comes you will be an amazing leader. You should have no fear of being a bad leader."

Alby grinned. "You know if I do become leader at some point, you're my second in command."

Newt's eyes widened in shock before a gentle smile etched his face, "After what I have caused you guys I don't deserve it… but I would be honoured."

* * *

 _ **1) *Hides face* sorry for bad writing - though remember that this story is going to be beta'd (Now been Beta'd)**_

 _ **2) So what did you think? Did you like it? I know the time zone was getting a bit different to the books at the end but I don't think it caused too much of a problem.**_

 _ **3) I know Winston would most likely be unconscious from the blood loss from how I described the wound but this happened to a mate who's arm went through a glass window, he almost died but he didn't fall unconscious (he's okay now). I also know that Newt would most likely not be speaking from a nut allergic reaction. I'm only allergic to pollen so I don't get the symptoms that Newt had so don't roast me for making him like that. It's all for the purpose of the story (though if you did want to make a remark please tell me how I can make it more realistic just say it in a nice way - I didn't mean to cause offence)**_

 _ **4) Happy Belated Saint George's day**_

 _ **5**_ _ **) Please review**_


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